


Haunted

by MayaMarkova



Series: Dialogues of the Dead and the Undead [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alqualondë, Burning of the Ships at Losgar, First Kinslaying (Tolkien), Gen, Spirits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27358459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayaMarkova/pseuds/MayaMarkova
Summary: With the First Kinslaying, troubles for Olwë and his people have only begun.
Series: Dialogues of the Dead and the Undead [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1996072
Comments: 10
Kudos: 11





	Haunted

‘Let him in immediately!’ Olwë ordered when a servant informed him that Eönwë, the herald of Manwë, had come and was asking for an audience. Olwë almost added, ‘It was about time,’ but figured out in time that, first, it was unsuitable to show his emotions so openly and, second, Eonwe could overhear him. And the Ainur were notoriously touchy, while at the same time being tone-deaf about the needs and wishes of the Eldar. Nobody had even offered condolescences for the many who had died trying to stop the flight of the Noldor. Indeed, Námo had cursed the Noldor, but this had not prevented them from departing with the stolen ships. At least Eönwë had come now. Better late than never.

However, when Eönwë entered, his expression was reserved rather than friendly.

‘Hail King Olwë!’ he said. ‘I hope that I am finding you and your people in high spirit, to the degree that it is possible in these hard times.’

‘Hail Lord Eönwë!’ Olwë replied. ‘Unfortunately, the spirit of Alqualonde has sunk deep. We are still weeping over the graves of the victims of the Kinslaying, and over our lost ships. We were left with the smallest boats only, and have in the meanwhile built hastily a few new ships that are no match to the old ones. This makeshift fleet cannot provide adequate fishing to feed our city, and the residents are on rationed food. We hope very much that the Valar, in acknowledgement of our efforts to stop the Noldor rebels, will secure the return of our stolen ships.’

While Olwë was speaking, Eönwë looked more and more perplexed. When the improvised little speech ended, the Maia stood in silence for a moment, apparently collecting his thoughts, before replying. 

‘I see that there has been some… miscommunication,’ he said. ‘Did you really think that the Valar wanted you to stop the Noldor at any cost?’

‘But yes!’ Olwë exclaimed. ‘We knew that the Valar did not wish them to leave. That’s why we refused them any help in leaving. We didn’t want to do anything against the will of the Valar!’

‘Has anybody actually told you that this was the will of the Valar?’

‘I am afraid that I have never received regular communication about the will of the Valar, so I have become used to inferring it from other sources, such as what you told the Noldor.’

‘We repeatedly told the Noldor that we were advising them against departure, but at the same time, we promised solemnly not to hinder their flight by force. So the Valar were not happy when you, hours later, pointed out the alleged will of the Valar as a reason not to help the Noldor. Bluntly said, our impression was that you were using the Valar as an excuse for your unwillingness to lend the ships. Worse, your words made the Valar look like liars, because their permission to leave Aman became meaningless when you withheld the practical means to do so. To cap it all, Melkor had spread lies among the Noldor that the Valar were holding them captive in Aman, and your behavior validated his lies. I see now that there has been a tragic misunderstanding rather than conscious ill will from your part, and I will report this to Lord Manwë. But about the white ships, unfortunately nothing can be done. Not even the Valar can make them come back.’

‘Why?’ asked Olwë, shocked.

‘Because they do not exist anymore. Fëanáro burned them as soon as he disembarked on the shores of Beleriand.’

‘What a monster! Let his name be cursed forever! May he die a painful, miserable death!’

‘Well, he was killed in a battle about ten days ago. But what use is his death to you?’ Eönwë asked disapprovingly. ‘Let’s better think of the future. There are some serious problems that must be addressed without delay. Have you mentioned strange things happening in and around Alqualondë?’

‘Oh yes! My people, who go fishing in the few surviving boats, often return delirious or with strange injuries. And some have not returned at all! In some cases, the boats have disappeared together with the crew, while in others, they have been found drifting empty.’

‘All this is due to the unhoused spirits of some victims of the Kinslaying who have rebelled and refused the call to Mandos. They now haunt the ships and the shore and want revenge, blaming for their plight mostly Fëanáro and you.’

‘Me?!’

‘Yes, you as well as him. The unhoused always try to blame their plight on the living, with good reasons or without them. They envy the living and will use every opportunity to snatch their belongings, their joy and, if possible, their very bodies. So you should actually be glad that Fëanaro burned your old fleet. Otherwise, the owners would have to destroy their ships themselves, and this would have been a heartbreaking task. Haunted ships are unusable.’

‘But as you say, the ships and boats my people use for fishing now are also haunted…’

‘And your people are finding out the hard way that these vessels are unfit for any use. Only one as insane as Fëanáro would sail on a haunted ship. His brother Nolofinwë, more sensible and prudent, took the alternative route across the Grinding Ice, which had become safer by comparison. It is amazing that Fëanáro under these circumstances succeeded to bring most of the ships to Middle-earth. Once there, he coped with the situation as he could. He burned the ships, trapping the unhoused in Middle-earth. Then, intentionally or not, he got himself killed in one of the first battles of the Noldor. His death appeased the unhoused, and they agreed to go to Mandos. So the spirits that followed Fëanáro to Beleriand are no longer a problem.’ 

Olwë wasn’t amused to hear Eönwë talking about Fëanáro with what sounded like reluctant admiration. However, his indignation grew into horror as he grasped the implications of Eönwë’s words.

‘What about the unhoused spirits which remained on the near shore?’ he asked.

‘Unfortunately, they are still a problem. Lord Námo has started unprecedented negotiations with them, but so far with little success. The unhoused are stubborn, and they recognize no authority. It is because of them that I am here.’

‘Lord Eönwë!’ Olwë said. ‘Tell me please, what can I do to solve the problem? Are the unhoused demanding my death? Will you advise me to kill myself to appease them and save my city?’

‘No, this would be against the laws,’ replied Eönwë. To Olwë, he seemed regretful. ‘Let’s hope that more moderate measures will suffice. You should apologize publicly for the way you handled the situation, and resign your position…’

‘By the way, my heir apparent was murdered in the Kinslaying!’

‘You could select another heir. Or, even better, transfer the power to some collective body which would be a more difficult target for the wrath of the unhoused. Then, you should exile yourself from Alqualondë.’

‘Where shall I go?’

‘Away from the sea. I’d recommend Tirion. There are still shortages of food and fuel there, and you are not popular among the locals, but at least it will be easy to find accommodation, and your daughter will support you morally.’

‘Will this be enough to restore the peace?’

‘More like a first step. Meanwhile, the people of Alqualondë must build a new haven in a new place, even if naturally less suitable, and make new vessels different in shape and color from the old ones. The old ships and boats must be left unused at the old haven. They could be used again only if a report comes from Mandos that all spirits have answered the call. But I doubt that this will happen while the ships are still usable.’

‘Building a new haven will require a lot of time, work and resources, and we are not very good at such tasks…’

‘I hope that someone has been taking notes while the Noldor were building the old one.’

Olwë couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It seemed to him that he was in a nightmare. His world was crumbling around him, like in the night of the Kinslaying. There was just one more thing he wanted to ask, though it was of no practical importance.

‘The unhoused spirits which have chosen to remain here and attack our fishermen… they are Noldor, aren’t they?’

Eönwë was now looking sympathetic, and reluctant to answer.

‘Most of them are,’ he said finally. ‘Generally, the Noldor blamed you and remained here, while the Teleri blamed Fëanáro and sailed to Middle-earth. But this was just the trend. In fact, both groups were mixed. After their deaths, the spirits reconsidered the events. Many of them no longer harbored ill will to the ordinary combatants of the other side, and blamed both leaders instead.’

‘Should I have told my people to ferry the Noldor to Beleriand?’

‘This would have preserved many lives, and would have spared unnumbered tears. But it is easy to say now what should have been done. The truth is that nobody advised you then to do it. And it seems that the Eldar tend to love too well the work of their hands and the devices of their heart. Your people clearly didn’t want others to use their ships. We cannot blame you for the mistakes of everyone, it would be unfair. But we demand amends mostly from you, for the common good.’

Eärwen arrived from Tirion on the day when her father resigned his power to the Moot, an assembly of the citizens. She was to take him to Tirion the next day. In the evening, she said she was going out for a walk. When she did not return in time for supper, Olwe went to seek her. After all, the shores of Alqualondë were still unsafe.

He found her standing at the very edge of a cliff with a huge bunch of flowers. She was singing a lullaby and dropping the flowers into the sea, one by one. She sensed his coming and turned back. Her cheeks were stained by tears.

‘What you are doing is beautiful!’ he whispered, deeply moved.

‘How do you think, will they find peace?’ she asked.

‘I hope so, dear,’ he sighed. ‘I hope so.’

**Author's Note:**

> I think that King Olwë, with his refusal to provide _any_ help to his former friends turned into disgraced refugees, bears most of the responsibility for the First Kinslaying. In this fic, I tried to make Valinor a little less depressing place by removing him from power.  
> I also made him see himself as a mirror image of his despised enemy, and amused myself to present Nolofinwë's behavior as wise and prudent.  
> Eönwë, I'm afraid, sounds out of character.


End file.
